Wanted: just one guy who understands that the Big O is not just another letter in the alphabet. I may have a “Sex & Love” advice column, but I also have a big, scandalous secret. I’ve never, actually, had my own Big O. Not even close. And DIY ain’t cutting it. My readers think I have it all: glamour, brains, and an enviable sex life. But behind my fancy words, I live in fear of being found out. Losing it all… without a happy ending. Enter my dude-roommate and his hot friends.

I'm the girl you'll never see coming. Blink and you're dead—another target checked off my list. Until one night, my carefully ordered existence falls apart. A bloodbath and a car crash later, I find myself in the grasp of four gorgeous, intimidating men. My captors claim they're holding me for my protection. I can't quite believe that.

I moved out to LA to participate in a Graphic Design scholarship that turned out to be fake. That was just my luck. But there was no way I could return home. Not to the already disappointed faces of my parents, who have never believed that ‘fiddling around on your computer’ was an actual career. Not back to my friends who thought I was insane for breaking up with my long-term boyfriend to move out here in the first place. Not back to Georgia, full stop.

This Omega doesn’t do drama, drugs, or hockey players. The first two for obvious reasons. The last because I don’t shit where I eat. As the daughter of the Phoenix Heat’s owner, I know better than to dip my toes into that particular pool. The league is way too small a world, and I am a drama-free zone. When my daddy strongly suggests (read: insists) I come home for a visit, how can I say no? But without my besties by my side, there’s no one to stop me from making an epicly stupid decision when I discover the Heat’s captain in a compromising position.

Three months on a private island. Two men. One million dollars. All I have to do is tame Nash Wilde. It’s been two years since my sister and her boyfriend were killed in a plane crash. The last person I expected to show up on my doorstep was his father, Alistair Wilde. Yet, he came with an offer I’d be an idiot to pass up: be his son’s girlfriend for three months, live with the two of them in a remote house, and the one million dollars is mine.